The Hands
Your hands that searched for me for so long
took revenge and hid in my hair
shattered every persuasion
run chaotically on the neck...
so many hieroglyphs drawn on the body,
I never had!
The eyes cut from the spectrum of your lips
left on my thighs.
My breasts, as plains,
rose in front of your hands,
for you to be able
with the shameful fingers
To create space between spaces.
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